Les Amants II (The Lovers)

What does it mean? It does not mean anything, because mystery means nothing either, it is unknowable. – René Magritte

when the shroud was thin and glorious,
like the sheen of a cloud
and I could almost feel it, the skin of your fingers
your gravity, a promise that one day, you could know me,
as more than a part of your own consciousness.
just two lovers, finally attempting
the terrifying endeavor of being known.
your life, the mystery of it all like murk;
we still have our secrets.

now let the water flood my open mouth,
pooling in the fabric of our deceptions,
bleeding the air from my lungs,
eyes closed in devotion and trepidation,
guilt’s slick grip gilding my flesh like gold,
my carnelian dress dark and heavy against my skin — just another thing separating me from you.